Getting Away From It All
by KinoFille
Summary: Luke and Lorelai on vacation. Multi-part (but not epic) fluff.
1. Default Chapter

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Disclaimer: Don't own none of it.

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Author's Note: So, a few weeks ago I started wondering what Luke and Lorelai would be like away from Stars Hollow, just the two of them. In Stars Hollow they're always dealing with Rory, or Christopher, or TJ and Liz, or the Elder Gs, or the townies, and, well, these two kids deserve a break. So, I'm sending them to one of the greatest places ever: Cape Hatteras, NC. I've only been to the Outer Banks a few times (but someday when I'm rich and famous I'll split time between my Hatteras beach house and my loft in NYC), so I hope those of you who may be more familiar with the area will forgive any of my factual errors.

As for timeline, this takes place about six months in the future: May of 2005, to be exact. This means it may be slightly spoilerish (depending on when I get certain chapters posted), but mostly speculative.

After the first chapter, other characters from the show will play little—if any—role in this story. It's all about the L/L on their own, kids.

Oh, and P.S.? Luke _will_ wear a bathing suit in this fic. Maybe even more than once. Visualize, my friends. Visualize.

Enjoy.

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Chapter 1: Come Away With Me

He really did have the most beautiful eyelashes.

Not that Lorelai hadn't noticed them before. In the year that she'd been with Luke, Lorelai had compiled a mental list of surprising, lovable, and just plain hot things she'd never let herself notice about Luke before they got together (she called it her "What the Hell Was I Thinking for Eight Years?" List), and the eyelashes had been one of the first entries. In fact, she'd teased him about them early on. _Maybe he's born with it_, she'd crooned over the diner counter during a particularly heavy lunch rush. _Maybe it's Maybelline._

Needless to say, Luke had taken her teasing in his usual calm fashion. He'd only turned three shades of red, and he'd actually waited ten whole seconds before muttering his standard _aw, geez_ and beating a hasty retreat to the kitchen.

Now, months later, she was laying in bed at what she'd once considered an obscene hour of the morning, again admiring her sleeping boyfriend's eyelashes. She'd started doing stuff like this not long after Luke had hired the two new kids at the diner and started spending more mornings with her. She'd wake up with the first light and study him as he slept, trying to figure out what it was about him—what it was about them together, even after all the rough moments—that made her so damn happy. Trying to ease the fears over what she'd almost lost with happiness and security in what she had.

This morning she didn't have too long to contemplate the matter. After a few seconds, Luke stirred and shifted his head on the pillow.

"You're doing it again," he murmured, his eyes still closed.

__

God, his morning voice was sexy. One more thing for The List.

"Doing what?" She snuggled into the crook between his neck and shoulder and wondered again at how her head fit so perfectly in that particular spot.

Luke rolled over on his side and slid his hand across her stomach. "You're staring at me while I sleep. It was creepy when Renee Zellweger did it to that guy in that movie, and it's only slightly less creepy when you do it to me."

"Okay, A.) I'm _way_ hotter than Renee Zellweger," she purred, trailing warm, soft kisses across his shoulder. "And 2), is there anything wrong with admiring my purty boyfriend?"

"I am not 'purty.'"

He was trying to sound mad, but it was hard to take him seriously when his hand was working its way under her pajama top.

"Oh, you are totally purty."

She would have debated the point further, but a second later his mouth was on hers and she decided debates could wait.

After a few minutes, though, she pulled away, her mind already on another track. "Hey, do you know what two weeks from Tuesday is?"

Luke sighed and propped himself up on one arm. By now he was used to Lorelai's non-linear thought patterns and able to follow most—if not all—of her tangents. "I'll have to check the calendar to be sure, but I think it's May 11."

"You are correct, sir. And what is significant about that date?"

"Don't tell me, let me guess. Is it the season finale of _Desperate Housewives_?"

"No, that's on Sunday. But can I just say that I'm very impressed that you even remembered the name of the show? Now, take another guess."

"I dunno. Bono's birthday?"

"Aw, you're so _cute_ when you try to be all hip and pop-culture-y. Alas, you're wrong again."

"Okay, I give up. What's May 11?"

"You mean you seriously don't know?"

"I seriously don't know."

"Well, if you don't know, then I'm sure not going to tell you."

"Lorelai . . ."

"No, I mean it."

"Come on, just tell me."

Lorelai slumped back against the headboard, arms crossed across her chest, ready to enter full pout mode. For a year she'd looked back on that night and all the feelings and realizations that had come over her when he'd held her, and she'd known that that was the moment her life changed completely. And now it turns out he didn't even . . .

"I can _not_ believe you don't remember our first date. You took me to Liz's wedding, and you told me I looked beautiful, and we danced, and . . . " She trailed off when she saw the smirk on his face. "You jerk!" She swatted him on the shoulder. "You _do_ remember!"

"Of course I remember," he chuckled, "although I have to say I'm not thrilled about sharing an anniversary with Liz and TJ." He reached over and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "And you did look beautiful."

As usual, a complement from Luke sent a thrill through her. And as usual, she had to play off just how _much_ she was feeling by making a joke "Aw, you big softie," she smiled, leaning in to kiss him. "I'm so ratting you out to the United Brotherhood of Gruff, Non-Romantic Flannel Wearers."

"My membership dues are months behind anyway," he murmured against her lips.

Lorelai spent a few minutes enjoying the sensation of Luke's tongue teasing hers and his hand stroking the bare skin of her stomach before pulling away again. "We should do something," she panted, trying to calm her body's instinctive reaction to Luke's touch long enough to make her point.

"Funny, I could have sworn we _were_ doing something," Luke growled, drawing her back to him.

But Lorelai was on a mission, and even Luke's lips couldn't distract her. Well, not for too long, anyway.

"I mean we should do something for our anniversary," she giggled, dodging his mouth. She held him off with her hands against his chest and gave him her best I've Got a Brilliant Idea and You're Going to Go Along with It Because You Luuuurve Me smile. "We should go away together!"

Luke sat up and gave her the patented Skeptical Luke look he always used in defense against The Smile. "What, you mean like on vacation?"

"No, like on a fact-finding tour for the UN weapons inspectors." She bounced up and down and shook his shoulder in excitement. "Come on, it'll be fun. We've never been anywhere together."

"We just went to New York last month."

"I hate to break it to you, hon, but giving your sister a ride to see Jess when her car is in the shop does not a romantic vacation make. Besides, this is the perfect time. You've got plenty of help at the diner, Rory won't be home for the summer for a couple of weeks, and this may be my last chance to get away from the inn before Sookie has the baby."

"Well . . ."

Like any good conversational predator, Lorelai could tell when her prey was weakening and she pounced on Luke's non-committal commital. "Goody! You just leave all the planning to me. We are going to have such an amazing vacation that Belinda Carlisle's gonna get the Go-Gos back together just so they can sing about it again."

"Fine. Whatever you want." He leaned in to kiss her again, but a thought stopped him. "But no Vegas."

"Fine. Vegas is out."

"Or Atlantic City."

"Okay, so no gambling on either side of the Mississippi. Got it."

"And no Graceland, either," he added, not wanting to put anything past her.

"But the Jungle Room . . ."

"No. Graceland. DisneyLand. No tacky, glittery, neon-lit tourist trap 'lands' of any kind."

This sent Lorelai into a fresh round of pouting. God, he was so infuriating when he went all Man of the House. Well, maybe he was a man. And maybe, technically, this was his house as well as hers—at least it had been for the last couple of months. But still.

"Yeah, well, I don't want to go hunting or fishing or stay anywhere that isn't serviced by Cingular Wireless and Cox Digital Cable. So . . .so . . . take that!"

Luke grinned, enjoying one of the rare moments when _he_ was the one who got _her_ all riled up. "Tell you what. You come up with a place that we can both enjoy, where we'll both be comfortable, and I'm there."

Of course, Lorelai never could resist a dare. "Oh, you'd better start packing your bags, mister. You are going to have the Best. Vacation. Ever. And I'm not just saying that 'cause you'll be spending days of uninterrupted time in my goddess-like presence."

The challenge issued and accepted, she decided that pouting time was officially over. She rolled over and slid her leg across his hip.

"Now, where were we?"

_strummy-strummy-la-la_

It took Lorelai two days and twenty-five hours of Internet research to decide that there was no such thing as a vacation destination that would make both her and Luke happy. Finally, when she felt like she couldn't look at one more picture of happy couples in impossibly pristine hotel rooms and Sookie and Michel were _both_ about to kill her for not getting any work done, she did what she always did at times of emotional or intellectual confusion.

"Hello?"

"I have no idea where to go with my boyfriend on vacation."

"You know, it probably wouldn't kill you if just once you said 'hello' like a normal person."

"You really want me to tell you how much you sound like your grandmother right now?"

"Point taken. So, what's the prob?"

"The _prob_ is that it's impossible to find one place in the continental US that says both 'mountain man' and 'fabulous diva.' It can't be done. It's like trying to add pink glitter to a blue-and-red flannel shirt. And we know how well _that_ goes over."

"I gotta say, I'd never seen Luke so ticked before. I was sure his head would explode. Literally."

"Yeah, well, how was I supposed to know it was one of his favorites? It's not like he wore it very often. But anyway, I digress. How am I supposed to find a romantic getaway spot that's bi-polar enough to suit both of us?"

"What about New York?"

"Can you really see Luke hanging out while I cruise the Prada boutique?"

"Yeah, about as easily as I can see _you_ in a fishing cabin in Nova Scotia."

"Exactly. So what do I do? Help me, Obi-Wan-Yalie. You're my only hope."

"Oh, like your dirty weekend conundrum compares to the fate of the Galaxy . . . Oh, wait! I know! How about the Outer Banks?"

"The Outer Whats?"

"The Outer Banks. It's this long sort of barrier island off the coast of North Carolina. I read all about it when we did that issue on Spring Break destinations a couple of months ago. Omigod, yeah, it'll be perfect."

"Yeah?"

"Absolutely. It's rustic enough for Luke, especially if you go down to one of the villages at Hatteras, but it's got the beach, plus enough tacky tourist shops to satisfy even your kitsch-y cravings."

"Hmm. The beach, shopping, and Luke in a pair of wet swim trunks."

"Okay, what did we say about over-sharing?"

"Sorry. Seriously, it sounds perfect. God, I tear my hair out for two days, and then here you come up with a solution in, like, two minutes. You are an amazing child! I knew I gave birth to you for a reason."

"Glad to be of service. After I get back from dinner I'll e-mail you some articles and links and stuff."

"Dinner, huh? Is it Duckie or Blaine tonight?"

"It's Marty, Mom."

"Ah, Duckie it is. Well, have a good time, and stay away from sleazy preppy guys in rumpled linen suits."

"I will . . .Hey, mom? I'm really glad you and Luke are getting away together. You guys deserve it, especially after everything that went down this winter."

"Thanks, kid. Good night, Andie."

"Good night, Iona."

_strummy-strummy-la-la_

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Up Next: Well, any trip that starts out crappy can only get better. Right?


	2. Takeoffs and Landings

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Disclaimer: What, do I _look_ like Amy Sherman-Palladino to you? Okay, you can't see me, so I'll answer for you. No, I don't. I'm shorter, blonder, and don't have the propensity for funky hats. Thus, I don't look like her; ergo, I must not be her; hence, I don't own the show or the characters (just my little ol' story idea).

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A/N: Wow! As of this writing, twenty-six reviews for the first chapter! That's a personal record! (Sure would be nice to break it—wink-wink, nudge-nudge)

Thanks to everyone for the nice reviews. I'm glad you're enjoying the story! Now, let's get this show on the road . . . so to speak.

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Chapter 2: Takeoffs and Landings

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're beginning our descent into Norfolk International Airport. The captain has turned on the Fasten Seatbelts sign, and at this time we ask that you turn off and stow all portable electronic devices and make sure that your tray tables and seatbacks are in their upright position.

Unfortunately, it looks as if the poor weather has followed us down the coast. The temperature on the ground in Norfolk is 62 degrees, with steady drizzle.

On behalf of all of us on US Air Flight 5462, thank you for flying with us. We hope you have a pleasant stay in Norfolk, or wherever your travels take you."

Lorelai sighed and looked up from the latest Exclusive Photos of Juila's Twins!, venturing a glance at Luke in the seat next to her. His eyes were closed and his head lay back against his seat, and it was hard to tell if he was asleep or fighting off another wave of nausea. She considered nudging him to tell him they were about to land, but then thought better of it. If he was sleeping he could use a couple more minutes, and if he was going to be sick again, well. . .

Well, any trip that starts out crappy can only get better. Right?

At first, it had seemed as if the Travel Channel gods had been smiling on the whole Luke-and-Lorelai-get-away-together plan. With Rory's help, Lorelai found a house for rent in the village of Frisco (just cute enough, just rustic enough, and just "tourist-y" enough) at a ridiculously reduced rate. The people who were supposed to rent the house for the week had backed out at the last minute (but of course, just early enough to get their deposit back). The rental agent was so desperate to get someone in the property and get _any_ money out of it that she'd even agreed to let Lorelai have the house for four days instead of the whole week.

Then, Lorelai had mentioned flying.

It only made sense to fly from Hartford to Norfolk and rent a car to drive the rest of the way to Hatteras, rather than driving all the way from Connecticut to North Carolina. After all, she'd said to Luke, they only had a few days for their trip, and they didn't want to waste them in the car. Luke had agreed, but he was just tense enough and just pale enough around the edges for Lorelai to poke and prod and pout until he told her what was wrong.

It wasn't that he was _afraid_ to fly, he'd insisted. It was just that he'd never actually done it before. He'd always driven everywhere he needed to go, and since he rarely needed to go anywhere that was further than a four-hour car ride, it had never been a problem. But he would be fine. Flying was no big deal, people did it everyday, and even though the bureaucrats at the FAA were probably a bunch of complacent nimrods, he was sure that it was completely safe everything would be okay.

In retrospect, it probably hadn't helped that they'd ended up flying out on one of the wettest, gloomiest days they'd seen in months.

Or that their takeoff was delayed two hours due to bad weather.

Or that they'd sat on the tarmac for another forty-five minutes after that.

Whatever the reason—nerves, the weather, the cramped quarters, or the turkey salad sandwich he'd insisted on eating before they left the house—twelve minutes after take-off, Luke had turned the strangest shade of grey-green Lorelai had ever seen, grabbed the air-sickness bag from the pocket on the back of the seat in front of him, and vomited into it with the same quiet force he did most things. This performance was to be repeated several times over the next few hours, with Luke becoming more drained and more mortified with every new bag the flight attendant brought him. Lorelai had tried to make it better with little jokes and suggestions of ginger ale and crackers, but her concern only seemed to make him more irritable. Finally, when he'd snapped at her for the second time to leave him alone, she gave up and pretended to read the _People_ magazine she'd bought in Hartford.

Now she glanced at him again and nudged him gently. "Hon, we're here."

Luke didn't even open his eyes. "I'm not deaf, Lorelai. I heard the announcement."

Well, alrighty, then.

Somehow, they made it off the plane without further incident. After a brief stop at the baggage carousel (at least the luggage hadn't gone missing—that _had_ to be a good sign, right?), they made their way over to the rental car counter.

Luke, who had insisted on taking care of the flight and rental car arrangements, stepped up to the counter and pulled out his wallet.

"Yeah, I have a reservation. Luke Danes."

"Yes, sir." The rental clerk spent a minute pressing keys and clicking the mouse. "Is that Danes, spelled D-A-N-E-S?"

A heavy, growl-laced sigh. "It is in _my_ family."

The clerk looked at the screen again, winced, and gave Luke the apologetic smile that he must have been trained to give customers when delivering annoying news. "I'm sorry, Mr. Danes. We show your reservation is for tomorrow, not for today. I'm afraid we don't have a vehicle available for you right now."

The look on Luke's face made Lorelai want to jump in front of the clerk and make like a human shield.

"What are you talking about? I made that reservation a week and a half ago, for Sunday the ninth. I even got one of those stupid e-mail confirmation things with the date on it, and now you're telling me I'll have to wait until _tomorrow_ to rent a car?"

"I'm sorry, sir," the clerk replied with a barely perceptible shrug.

For Luke, that shrug was like waving a photo of Harvey Fierstein in front of James Dobson. Lorlelai practically had to physically restrain him from lunging at the poor guy.

"You're not sorry! You couldn't care less. You don't give a rat's ass about your customers, as long as you can stand in front of your little screen, press your little buttons, and make your eight dollars an hour."

"Luke, stop it." Lorelai tightened her grip on Luke's arm. "It's not his fault, it's just a computer error. It's okay."

"No, it's _not_ okay! What are we supposed to do now, huh? Walk to Hatteras? Take a rickshaw?"

"I know, I know." She stroked his shoulder in an effort to soothe him. "Just calm down."

She turned to the clerk and saw that he was just a kid, probably working his way through community college. She leaned on the counter and gave him the same smile she used on the linen service guy when she wanted him to get the inn's towels back a day ahead of schedule.

"Hi, there . . ." she glanced down at his nametag " . . . Brad. So, Brad, we're in kind of a bind here. See, we're supposed to be on our first vacation together, and we really need a car to get to get to the beach so we can actually, you know, start the vacation." She upped the smile wattage. "Now, I'm sure I don't have to tell a handsome, vital guy such as yourself how important a romantic getaway is for a couple, am I right? I'm sure you've had your own fair share of romantic getaways." The blush rising in the clerk's cheeks showed that remark had its desired effect, and Lorelai continued the charm assault. "That's what I thought. Now, I just know that you can push a few buttons and get us in some wheels and on the road right now. It would really save our trip, and I'd be _so_ grateful if you could help us out. Whaddya say?"

Brad, beaming and bashful, turned back to his computer screen and clicked his mouse a couple more times. "Well, actually," he began, swelling with pride that he could be of service to the really hot lady with the incredible blue eyes, "I just happen to have an Explorer available."

"Aw, Brad, you rock!" Lorelai smiled and leaned in a little closer. "Did anyone ever tell you you look like Matt Damon's hotter younger brother?" Actually, the kid looked more like Steve Buscemi's dorkier younger brother, but years of experience had taught Lorelai to always end on a high note.

Brad walked to the back to get the key, still blushing and beaming, and Lorelai turned to Luke with a triumphant smile—a smile that faded when she saw the look on Luke's face.

"Did you _have_ to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Flirt with that guy just to get us a car—a car, I might add, that we were supposed to have in the first place."

"I wasn't flirting!"

"Are you kidding? You practically offered to jump over the counter and give him a lapdance."

"I was just using a little charm. Besides, it's better than threatening to tear his head off for something that probably wasn't even his fault."

"I didn't—You know what? Just forget it. Do whatever you want."

"Fine."

"Fine."

They both stood wordlessly glaring into the distance until Brad came back with the key, and the conversation didn't exactly perk up once they were on the road. Aside from asking her for a direction here and there, Luke drove in stony silence. By the time they crossed the Bonner Bridge, Lorelai was resigned to staring out the window, thinking how nice the scenery probably was. She couldn't wait to drive back through when it was daylight. And not raining.

It was nearly eleven o'clock when they finally reached the house. Luke wordlessly hauled their bags out of the Explorer, and Lorelai followed him up the stairs into a large, airy common room decorated in typical beachy shabby-chic. Two of the walls were lined with windows, and a patio door opened off one end of the room onto a large deck. Through the doors on the other side of the kitchen she could see a bedroom and bathroom, and more rooms lined the open landing upstairs.

"Wow," she said, momentarily forgetting the cold war they'd been waging since the Virginia state line. "This place is amazing. I think I want to marry it and have its seafoam-colored babies."

"It's too big," Luke groused, dousing Lorelai's hopes of a verbal détente. "It's wasteful. Who needs all this space just to come pollute the beach a few days a year?"

Lorelai turned away with a sigh, not wanting to incite another Luke Rant. Her glance fell on the a basket of wine, fruit, and gourmet cookies siting kitchen counter. "Hey, look! Apparently Janet was so happy we took the place she left us some thanks-for-renting-this-lovely-but-still-over-priced-property goodies. Silly Janet. Don't know you bribe the customers _before_ you make the deal?"

She smiled at Luke and gave him the usually irresistible hair flip, determined to make one more try at salvaging their first night away together. "Hey, how about we open the wine and . . . you know . . ._really_ get this vacation started."

Apparently, the analogy "Hair Flip is to Luke as Kryptonite is to Superman" had been rendered moot by three hours of air sickness and two hours of driving in the rain. "Nah," Luke grunted, unable to meet her eyes. "I think I'm just gonna get cleaned up and then go to bed. I'm beat."

"Oh." Lorelai fought back the tears that were stinging her eyes. "Okay. Why don't you take the downstairs bathroom. I'm gonna go upstairs and take a shower, and then I guess we'll . . ." Unsure how to finish the thought, she simply grabbed her suitcase and started up the stairs.

In a few minutes Lorelai was under the hot shower, unable to hold back the tears of fatigue and hurt and frustration any longer. All she'd wanted was to spend some time alone with Luke. She just wanted to be with him and hold him and absorb him and revel in the fact that after everything that had happened, after everything she'd done or almost done or not done, they were finally, really, truly _together._

What the _hell_ was wrong with him, anyway? Was he really getting this bent out of shape over a little air sickness? Or because the car reservation got screwed up? Okay, granted, Rick Steves probably wouldn't approve of how their trip had started off, but so what? Was that any reason for Luke to start his own off-Broadway version of The Incredible Plaid Hulk on Vay-cay?

But then, as she stood in the shower letting the hot water pound her corded neck muscles, she realized that Luke's mood had started long before they ever got to the airport. He'd been tense ever since they'd gotten the deal on the house. She remembered bouncing into the diner the day Janet had e-mailed the confirmation, thrilled about the house and the beach and the togetherness. Luke had seemed just as excited, but when she'd looked up from her celebratory cup of coffee she'd caught the oddest expression crossing his face. It was as if he was . . . _nervous_ about something. In fact, she thought, rinsing the shampoo out of her hair (if only it were as easy to rinse Luke out of her hair!), he'd been weird for a couple of days before they left. He hadn't been sullen or irritable or anything, just . . . antsy. Like he was about to take a test or give a speech in front of a school assembly and he just wanted to get it over with. Watching him had reminded her of the way she felt the week before her ninth-grade play.

Lorelai stayed in the bathroom for over a half hour, cleansing and exfoliating and toning and moisturizing and brushing. Part of her hoped that Luke would already be asleep by the time she got finished so that she wouldn't have to deal with him any more that night.

__

Geez, she thought as she finally walked out of the bathroom. _That's exactly what you want to be thinking on your first night away with your boyfriend._

As it turned out, Luke hadn't gone to bed.

By the time Lorelai came back downstairs, Luke had cleaned himself up, put the rest of the luggage away, and retrieved the bottle of wine from the gift basket. He was sitting on the couch when Lorelai came into the living room, and he looked up at her with a mixture of remorse and embarrassment.

"I'm a jerk," he said sheepishly.

Lorelai stood in the middle of the room, not quite sure how to respond to the apology or his change in mood. "It's okay," she finally said, coming to sit beside him.

"No, it's not okay. I was a complete ass, and I ruined our first day and I . . ." he lifted his hands helplessly. "It's just that I'm not good at this whole going-away-together thing. Not that I have a whole hell of a lot of experience doing it. But even when I have gone away with someone I've been . . . you know . . involved with, I've just sucked at it."

Lorelai sat quietly, deciding to just let him get it all out.

"I mean, Rachel and I took one weekend trip to Boston, which ended in disaster when she wanted to keep on going to New York, and I refused to because I had to get back to the diner. Could I help it that I had a business to run and couldn't go gallavanting all over the Northeast whenever I wanted? After that we never went away together again-which, I suppose, knowing her, was part of the problem. And, well, you know what a fiasco my last trip was."

"Yeah." Lorelai didn't really want to think about Luke on the Carnival Cruise of Ill-Advised Weddings at that moment."

"The thing is," he said, turning to face her and taking her hand in his, "this isn't just some trip with a girlfriend. This is different. This is important. _You're_ important, and things have been going so good for us the past few months, and I just wanted so badly for this to be special. And then the flight got delayed, and then I got sick on the plane—which, by the way, is going on the list of my most humiliating moments ever, right behind the time I walked into the girls' restroom by mistake when I was in third grade—and then the car reservation got screwed up, and I just got madder and more disappointed every time something else happened instead of just blowing it off, and that just made it worse, and I took it all out on you, and I am just really sorry." Spent from his apology rant, he looked at her hesitantly, hoping she'd forgive him.

That look was all she needed. "Oh, babe," she sighed, crawling into his lap and burying her head in his neck. "It's okay, really. I don't care where we go or if it's perfect, I just want to be with you." She looked at him with a sly grin. "Of course, if you wanted to go somewhere like Fallujah, there would be a discussion. It would be a very short discussion, but there would be a discussion." To her relief, he chuckled and leaned his forehead against hers.

"We just had a rough start," she continued, kissing him softly. "You'll see, this trip is going to be amazing. We'll just consider today the crappy deleted scene, and tomorrow we'll get on with the Oscar-worthy, totally hot director's cut—complete with NC-17 material for the unrated version."

Luke grinned and tightened his arms around her, and she rested her head back on his shoulder. "I love you," he murmured into her hair.

Lorelai smiled against his flannel-covered chest. It wasn't something they'd said often since the first time they'd said it—the first time _she'd_ said it, that night when she stood crying in the diner after weeks of avoiding him and needing him and being terrified he'd never let her back in. It wasn't that they didn't mean it, or that they were scared to say it. They just seemed to have this unspoken agreement (which seemed to be the way they did almost everything together) that saying it too often made it less special. They were such powerful words, and had been so hard for either of them to say to anyone before they finally found each other, that they didn't want to wear out the magic.

Besides, it's not like they didn't know it. It was there between them, every time he poured her coffee or she teased him about his flannel. It just _was._

Still, sometimes it was nice to hear it. "I love you, too," she replied, running her fingers into his hair and pulling him down for a kiss. After a minute she slid off his lap and stood up, pulling him up with her.

"Now grab that wine and let's go christen us a beach house."

_strummy-strummy-la-la_

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Up Next: Saying what hasn't been said.


	3. Best of My Love

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A/N: Sorry for the obscenely long wait between chapters. I really have no excuse.

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Disclaimer: Still not AS-P. Still don't own any of it. Still looking for my own Luke.

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Chapter 3: Best of My Love

Lorelai's first thought when she woke up the next morning was that the sun came up ridiculously early at the beach. Her second thought was that she was alone in bed. Slipping on Luke's t-shirt (which had been discarded the night before in one of several vigorous rounds of beach house christening), she padded downstairs, where she found a note written in Luke's hasty scrawl sitting on the kitchen counter.

__

Have gone to forage for your breakfast. Back as soon as possible.

Love, L

P.S.: There is no coffee in this house.

P.P.S: No, that is not my idea of a sick joke.

She grinned at the little Luke-joke, not even disturbed at the impending lack of caffeine, and went back upstairs to change.

As she got dressed, Lorelai glanced at the disheveled bed and smiled, remembering the events of the previous night. It wasn't just the sex—which, to be fair, had been incredible. It was more about the _connection._ She felt like ever since they'd made it back to each other after that horrible winter, every thing they'd done—talking, making love, just hanging out together—had taken on new significance. They'd made it through Luke's insecurities and her own fears and those awful weeks apart, and to her what they had now was more precious, but more solid than ever.

Or, at least, _she_ knew she felt this way. She was pretty sure Luke knew it too, but sometimes it was still so hard to tell. That was one of the problems with being in love with Unreadable Monosyllabic Man. So much went unsaid.

As Lorelai came back downstairs a few minutes later, she heard Luke come into the house from the floor below.

"Is that my little hunter-gatherer?"

Luke appeared at the top of the stairs with a smirk. "Hunter-gatherer? Is that another way of calling me a caveman?"

"Oooh. Caveman. That's one we haven't done in a while." She sidled up to him and gave him a soft, lingering kiss. "Morning."

"Well, we'll definitely have to remedy that situation." He kissed her back. "And good morning to you, too."

Lorelai pulled back with a smile, then noticed the bags and familiar-looking Styrofoam cup he was carrying. "Whadja bring me?"

"Well, when I was looking for a market I saw this place called the Orange Blossom Bakery. I remembered reading about it in the guidebook, so I got you some stuff to hold you over until I can actually cook something." He handed her the coffee and a small brown bag, then started putting the other groceries away.

"You really _are_ an angel," she grinned. She took a long, appreciative sip of the coffee, then opened the bag and pulled out an irregular-shaped pastry. "Well, _this_ is new."

"It's called an 'apple ugly.' It's supposed to be their specialty."

" 'Apple ugly,' huh?" She gave a little shrug, then took a bite. A second later, she let out a delighted moan. "Oh my god, this is amazing." She cradled the pastry to her. "Don't listen to those mean people at the bakery," she cooed. "You're not apple ugly, you're apple _pretty._"

To this, Luke could only shake his head and roll his eyes.

"So," Lorelai said around another mouth full of pastry, "have you recovered from your Road Trip with the Girlfriend stagefright?"

Luke's face reddened and he rolled his eyes. "Yes, and can we please forget that ever happened? I feel like enough of an idiot as it is."

"It's forgotten. No more talk of Luke's boyfriend jitters." Lorelai swallowed the last of the apple ugly and walked over to Luke, sliding her arms around his waist. "Besides, judging by your performance—or should I say performances—last night, I'd say you've definitely recovered your confidence."

"Oh, yeah?" Luke leaned down and gave her a quick kiss. "Glad you approve."

"Oh, I definitely approve," she grinned, "but just to be sure you're completely back to your manly, confident self, I think we should have a second go-round tonight."

"Well, in the interest of accurate testing and reporting, me and my restored confidence will be happy to oblige."

"Good." She kissed him and slipped out of his arms. "You ready to hit the beach, Moondoggie?"

"Moondoggie?"

"Yeah. Moondoggie. Dreamy surfer boyfriend of Gidget, the spunky, beach-loving ingenue played by the recently deceased Sandra Dee on the big screen, and later by the even more perky Sally Field on t.v."

"Oh, him." Luke shoved the last of the empty grocery bags in a cabinet and came around the counter. "Sure, let's go."

"Wait, wait," Lorelai said, taking in the usual Luke uniform of flannel, jeans, and baseball cap. "You can't go to the beach dressed like that."

Luke gave her a confused look. "Why? What's wrong with how I'm dressed?"

"Well, first, it's eight-six degrees out there, and I really don't want you to keel over of sunstroke on our first day out. Second, you go to the beach like that and you'll look like a refugee from the Ted Kczysinsky School of Fashion Design for Unibombers and Hermits."

"Look, there is nothing wrong with what I've got on. I wear this every day, and if it's not good enough for the beach, then that's just too bad."

"Yeah, but . . ." Lorelai started to protest, then trailed off when she saw his eyes begin to twinkle and the corners of his mouth turn up. She gasped in mock outrage and swatted him on the chest. "You know, you'd better never let anyone in Stars Hollow know you actually have a sense of humor. You'd never be able to scare Kirk or Taylor again. It'll be like Lex Luthor finding out about Superman's weakness for Kryptonite."

"Duly noted." Luke tugged affectionately on a strand of her hair, then headed for the stairs to change. "I'll be two minutes."

__

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A short while later they made their way down to the beach (Luke now in a t-shirt and khaki shorts). The gloom and chill of the day before had given way to a crystal blue sky and balmy breezes, and Lorelai stood still for a minute, just taking in the salty tang in the air, the sound of the waves crashing on the sand, and the warmth of the sun on her face.

"My god," she sighed, looking up and down the nearly deserted beach. "Isn't this just perfect?"

"It's amazing." Luke turned to her and smiled. "This was a really good idea."

Lorelai grinned back at him. "Someday you'll learn that all my ideas are good ideas. Especially the one about curtains in the diner."

"I'm not even going there."

"Oh, you say that now, but my hair flip/black dress/red lipstick triple combination will have you hanging curtains faster than you can say 'gingham or eyelet.'"

"And to your triple-combination-of-sex I will respond with the Danes manly growl/tattoo-baring t-shirt/pie in bed/nuzzling the special spot quadruple play. I win."

"Oh, honey, I think we _both_ win in that scenario." Lorelai picked up the bag they'd brought down to the beach and began rooting through it. "Crap. I forgot the sunblock."

"I'll get it."

"Nah, I'll go. I need to get some water, anyway."

By the time Lorelai made it up to the house and back, Luke had spread out their blanket and had reclined on it, _sans_ shirt. He was also talking two very tanned, very blonde, very nineteen-year old girls. _Probably admiring his tattoo_, she thought. The skank twins must have sensed Lorelai's territorial phermones, because they walked off before she even made it back to the blanket.

She plopped down on the blanket beside Luke, unable to keep a pout from forming. "What did Paris and Nicole want?"

"Huh?"

"Your little girlfriends."

"Oh, them." He gave a disinterested shrug. "They were just asking me to go clubbing with them tonight. Apparently they've got some even hotter friends, and they said I could hook up with any or all of them." As usual, the smirk gave him away.

"Oh, I see." Lorelai stood up and slowly peeled of her t-shirt and shorts. "Well, it's too bad you're going to be busy," she purred, " 'cause I was really hoping you could put some sunblock on my . . . you know . . hard-to-reach areas."

Luke stared up at Lorelai, taking in the way her bikini revealed and yet flattered her body. His face flushed slightly, and he swallowed. "Somehow," he said in a husky voice, "I don't think they'll miss me."

Lorelai sat down on the blanket with a victorious smile. "Good," she said, turning her back to him and handing him the bottle of sunblock. "Now SPF me, baby."

Luke took his time rubbing in the lotion, massaging every inch of the bare skin on Lorelai's back and shoulders. Before she knew it, Lorelai was letting out soft moans of contentment. "God, you do that so well."

Luke leaned forward with a chuckle and put his lips to her ear. "You do know you're the only one I want to hook up with, right?"

She bit back another moan at the sensation of his breath on her skin and turned, prepared to make one of her patented smart remarks. But the retort died in her throat when she saw the sincerity and openness in eyes. "Yeah," she said softly. "I do."

"Good." He kissed her softly and gave her shoulder one final rub.

They lay on the blanket in contented silence for a while, Lorelai reading _Entertainment Weekly_ and Luke reading the local newspaper. After about half an hour, though, Luke finished the paper and began to fidget.

"Okay, I can't stand just sitting here any more. You wanna go for a walk or something?"

Lorelai tossed her magazine on the blanket beside her and stood up. "Yep. I think I've learned all I want to about Bachelorette Jen's new man."

They walked hand-in-hand down the beach, not saying much of anything. Inside, though, Lorelai was still turning over the thoughts that had been with her since earlier that morning—thoughts that had only increased after their little exchange on the blanket. Maybe these thoughts kept cropping up because they were alone together, away from everything that usually distracted them, and now she had to face them head-on. Maybe it was just some kind of weird delayed reaction. Whatever the reason, the need to be sure, to finally resolve _everything_, made her stop suddenly.

"Hey," she said. "I need to tell you something."

"Okay." He looked at her expectantly.

Lorelai took a deep breath, not sure how to start—not even sure, now that the moment was here, that she wanted to start. Maybe it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. But she plunged ahead anyway, needing to get it all out. "I just . . . I mean . . .Last winter, when we . . ."

Luke's face tightened, and he looked away. "You don't have to . . ."

"Yes, I do. I mean, I know everything's okay. We had our break, then I came and cried in the diner, and we kissed and made up, and you poured me a cup of coffee, and we shorthanded our way through the rest of it, just like we always do. Now, don't get me wrong, I love our shorthand thing. It's one of the great things about being us, plus it's a terrific time-saver." She took his other hand in hers and turned him to face her. "But I just still feel like there's stuff I need to say. Stuff I need you to hear."

"Lorelai . . ."

"Please just let me finish, and then I promise we can go back to our usual sexy banter—which, by the way, I also think is one of the great things about being us."

Luke said nothing, and Lorelai took another breath. "I know that last winter, with everything that happened with my mother, and with Chris and GG and his dad, that you didn't feel like you were a priority with me. You didn't feel like I was all in, and I guess you were justified, 'cause you gave so much and did so much, and even though I was nuts about you and so happy with you I still found ways to keep you at arm's length. I mean, that's what I do. What I've always done. But I want to make sure I don't do that with you, because you mean too much to me to keep at a distance. So even though things are great now, I just want you to know something."

She reached up to cup his cheek, making him look her directly in the eye. "Next to Rory, you are the _most_ important person in my life. Period. Being with you has made me happier than I've ever been. It's made me a better person than I've ever been. And I don't think there's any way I could love you more completely than I do right now." She paused for a moment, then looked away, suddenly embarrassed at having spoken so openly. "Okay, so, cheesy outburst over. We now return you to your regularly-scheduled lactose-free programming"

A second later, though, she felt Luke slide his arms around her and bury his face in her hair. "Thank you," he murmured.

Lorelai pulled away for just a moment to look into his eyes. Overcome by the naked emotion she saw there, she wrapped her arms as tightly as she could around his neck, nuzzling his cheek.

"Any time," she whispered. "Any time at all."

__

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Up Next: So _that's_ why they named a cocktail after it.


	4. Shadows in the Moonlight

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A/N: Yeah, so, this is for anyone who remembers that this story actually exists. I'm donning the sackcloth and ashes over the length of time it took me to update.

And yes, there is a rating change for this chapter. It's now **_Rated R_**, y'all. Baby's first smut!

****

Chapter 4: Shadows in the Moonlight

On Tuesday (or, as Lorelai later put it in her very worst Marlon Brando impression, "on dis, de day of our anni-voi-suh-ree"), Lorelai awoke to the familiar—and always welcome—scent of Luke's coffee. She opened her eyes with a contented sigh just as Luke, clad only in his boxers, came into the room with two steaming mugs. He handed her the one containing the coffee, then leaned down and kissed her deeply.

"Morning," he said, moving to kiss her forehead.

Lorelai gave him a smile, then took a long, grateful sip of her coffee.

"You really _are_ the perfect man." She leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes with another contented sigh.

Luke merely grinned and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

After a few minutes of quiet, Lorelai opened her eyes and looked around the room in the dim light. "What time is it, anyway?"

"About 9:30."

"9:30? How come it's so dark?"

"Apparently there's a storm system right over the Outer Banks. It's raining like crazy out there."

"Oh, you've _got_ to be kidding!" Lorelai slammed her coffee mug on the night stand, then jumped out of bed and went over to the window. She pulled back the curtain to reveal an ominously gray sky and torrential rain. "God, Heather Tesch must really hate me."

"Who?" Luke came to stand behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

"The chick on the Weather Channel. I can't _believe_ we're only gonna get one decent day on this trip!" The force of Lorelai's complaint, however, was lost in the growing arousal in her voice. Just having Luke within three feet of her was enough to get her motor running, and _naked_ Luke, well . . .

Luke chuckled into her shoulder. "Well, according to Heather, or whoever, the whole thing's supposed to blow over about noon, so I'm sure we'll be able salvage something out of the day."

Lorelai smiled and pulled his arm tighter around her, reveling in the feel of being literally wrapped up in Luke. After a minute, she turned to face him, batting her eyelashes. "But whatever shall we do to while away the hours in the meantime, Mistah Danes?"

"I've got a couple of ideas," he responded, lowering his lips to the curve of Lorelai's shoulder.

_strummy-strummy-la-la_

By late afternoon the weather had cleared, and Luke and Lorelai drove down to the ferry that ran regularly to Ocracoke Island. Lorelai was completely intrigued by "the whole car-on-a-boat scenario," and more than one passenger turned an amused glance her way as she bounced around the ferry, chattering excitedly.

"Hey," she said, grabbing Luke's hand as they came to the railing at the back of the boat, "wanna play Leo to my Kate?"

"Not if it any way, shape, or form involves me yelling 'I'm the King of the World,'" Luke responded with a patented eye-roll.

"Fine," Lorelai pouted. "We'll just save that for bed tonight."

A couple next to them sniggered, and Lorelai bit her lip to keep from giggling at the blush that was quickly rising in Luke's cheeks.

_strummy-strummy-la-la_

They spent about an hour or so walking hand-in-hand around Ocracoke village, which turned out to be a small, rustic beach community made up mostly of specialty shops. Lorelai thought there was something about it that reminded her of Stars Hollow—an impression that grew even stronger when she saw that the village had its very own cleverly named bookstore.

" 'Books to be Red,'" Lorelai cried with glee upon reading the sign. "Oh, man. Rory will kill us if we don't check this place out. Hey, I wonder if they show cheesy, badly dubbed 70s movies here on Tuesday nights."

"I dunno," growled Luke, "but the minute I see a large red couch I'm outta there."

They stepped into the air-conditioned shop and began browsing through the shelves of books, Lorelai looking for something Rory might enjoy. After about half an hour of picking up and putting down countless choices, she decided on _A Long Way Down_ and _Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs_—the former because Rory had recently gotten on a Nick Hornby kick, and the latter because the title just sounded too cool to pass up. The fact that it turned out to be a book of pop-culture essays was just the icing on the cake.

She found Luke a couple of rows over, engrossed in—of all things—_Far from the Madding Crowd._ Momentarily taken aback by Luke's sudden interest in British literature, she simply stood and watched him read for a few seconds. Finally, overcome with curiosity, she slid silently up to him and peered over his shoulder.

"Whatcha readin'?"

At the sudden sound of her voice, Luke jumped about six inches and let out a highly amusing yelp of surprise. "Jeez, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

"I'm pretty sure Rory's already read this one, babe," Lorelai smiled, pointing to the book Luke still held in his hand.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, I know." The look of embarrassment on Luke's face was just about the cutest thing Lorelai had ever seen. "Actually, I was thinking about getting it . . . you know . . . well, for me."

Lorelai raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "For you?"

"What?" Now Luke was getting defensive. "I read."

"I know you read, hon. You read a lot. I just didn't know you were into 19th Century English pastoral novels, that's all."

At this, Luke seemed to grow even more embarrassed. "Well, you know, I heard Rory telling you about it when she was home a few weeks ago, and I dunno. It just sounded . . . I dunno . . ._interesting_, I guess." He cleared his throat uncomfortably and seemed to have trouble meeting Lorelai's gaze.

Still confused about why Luke would be so embarrassed about reading a classic novel (after all, it's not like it was _Bridget Jones's Diary_), Lorelai tried to remember what Rory had said about the book. After a moment, bits and pieces came back to her. _The strong, silent bachelor in love with the unattainable local beauty . . . lots of pining . . . finally, a happy ending_. One look in Luke's eyes told her he was remembering something along those same lines. The idea that he still—even occasionally—thought of them like that touched her, and she leaned into him and kissed him softly.

"How 'bout I borrow Rory's copy and we read it together," she smiled.

Luke returned the smile as he squeezed her hand. "Sounds good."

_strummy-strummy-la-la_

After a couple more hours of exploring and shopping (Lorelai insisted on getting souvenirs for almost everyone back home, including Taylor and her parents), they made their way to Howard's Pub for dinner. The place was apparently an Ocracoke institution, and Lorelai had been dying to try their crab cake sandwich. They sat down and ordered—Luke politely but firmly declining the waiter's suggestions of a house microbrew in favor of a Bud Light—then sat looking out the window in a comfortable silence.

Lorelai thought back over the events of the last few days and then over the events of the years that had led up to them being together in this moment. She looked across the table at Luke, at that face she'd come to know so well and love so much. No matter how many times she thought about it, it never ceased to amaze her how many different feelings she had tied up in him. And how long she'd had those feelings. But after thinking back over everything that they'd been through to get to where they were, it was no longer enough to mentally rehash the Great Luke and Lorelai Fairytale she'd built up in her mind. She wanted to _talk_.

"Hey," she said, grabbing his hand and jiggling it, "let's reminisce."

"About what?"

"About us. Tell me something about us—about me—from before we were an _us_."

"Lorelai . . ."

"Pleeeease? I know we have this whole 'the first rule about Luke and Lorelai is you don't talk about Luke and Lorelai' thing, but it just seems appropriate, on dis, de day of—"

"Fine, fine." Luke sighed, then looked up, as if trying to conjure the past on the rafters in the restaurant's ceiling. After a moment something seemed to come to him, but he looked at her uncertainly, clearly still not comfortable with Sharing Time.

Lorelai gave him an encouraging smile. "What?"

"Well . . ." He drew a deep breath. "Do you remember that time . . . oh, I dunno, about four or five years ago. . . Sookie and Jackson were on their first date, and you and this psychotic midget were doubling with them, you all came in the diner for burgers . . . then the midget ditched you, and we ended up playing cards at the counter?"

Lorelai's pulse quickened a little and she nodded, hoping he was going to say what she thought he was going to say.

"Well, I almost asked you out that night. In fact, if Mrs. Kim hadn't come busting in looking for the kids, I probably would have."

Lorelai grinned. "I _knew_ it! I thought you were going to. I even gave you an opening a couple of days later, but you were all Danny Zuko, rockin' and rollin' and whatnot, and pretending you didn't remember, and you didn't try again."

"And then Christopher came to town."

"And then Rachel came back."

"You got engaged."

"Jess wrecked Rory's car . . ."

"You told me to go to hell . . ."

". . . a sentiment you returned . . ."

"Christopher again, and the fisherman . . ."

"Nicole . . ."

"You went to Europe . . ."

"You got married. . ."

"Jason . . ."

"You got divorced . . ."

They stared at each other then, the weight of all those years and all those choices and all those near-misses hanging between them. Luke reached over to cover Lorelai's hands with his as she blinked back the tears that burned behind her eyes.

The spell was soon broken by the waiter, and they dug into their food. They ate quietly and slowly, and by the time they left the restaurant the sun was beginning to set. On the ferry ride back to Hatteras, Luke wrapped his arms tightly around Lorelai as they watched the island disappear into the darkness.

_strummy-strummy-la-la_

When they got back to the beach house, Luke flopped on to the couch with a groan that was equal parts exhaustion and contentment. Lorelai, however, had other ideas. She went upstairs, rummaged through a closet, and returned a minute later with a large quilt.

"Come on," she said, pulling Luke up off the couch.

"Where?"

"It's our last night here, and I want to see the beach at night."

Luke, who had been passively following her to the door, stopped short and pointed out the window. "Are you nuts? It's pitch black outside. We'll break our necks just trying to get down to the sand."

"God, you're such a Nancy-boy sometimes," Lorelai huffed. She pointed out the same window Luke had just indicated. "Besides, it won't be that dark. Look, there's a full moon out."

She gave another tug on Luke's arm, and they were out the door.

A few minutes later they were situated on the blanket, Lorelai's head against Luke's shoulder and Luke's arm in its customary place around Lorelai's legs. The moon cast just enough light, and it felt like they were the only ones on the beach—or in the world, for that matter.

Lorelai nuzzled Luke's shoulder. "I can't believe we have to go home tomorrow," she whined.

"I know. I am so not looking forward to dealing with Kirk and Taylor after this."

"Oh, great," Lorelai giggled. "We're on a romantic vacation and all my boyfriend can think of is other men."

"Ah, jeez."

"Hey, it's cool, man. I'm totally open-minded about these things."

Luke just grunted, and they sat watching the water, lulled by the roar of the ocean.

After a few minutes, Lorelai turned to face Luke. "Hey," she said, taking his chin in her hand. "I'm really, really, glad we did this."

"Me too."

Luke pressed his mouth to hers, and it wasn't long before he was nibbling and licking at her lower lip. Lorelai opened her mouth with a sigh, and her heart raced as Luke massaged her tongue with his. She moaned as his hands ran through her hair and over the bare skin of her arms, raising goosebumps in the cool breeze. She felt her face begin to flush as Luke kissed and licked a warm, moist trail across her jaw and down her neck.

"You staging your own Burt Lancaster/Debra Kerr moment?" She panted the question, rather than asking it.

"Shhhh." Luke pressed her down onto the blanket, making his intentions very clear.

Lorelai lost herself to his kisses for a few more moments, but when his fingers started making their way under her tank top, she decided to make one more attempt to stop things before they got out of hand. She reluctantly pulled her lips away from his, ready to be the level-headed voice of reason for once.

But then she looked at him. She took in the swollen lips, and the tousled hair, and the eyes that held so much love and so much desire, and all objections flew out of her mind. She pulled his head back to hers, and reveled in the groan he let out when she thrust her tongue back into his mouth.

Luke's hands soon finished their journey, and before Lorelai knew it, her top was somewhere on the other side of the blanket. She gasped as the night air caressed her exposed skin, then moaned as Luke's lips and tongue and hands followed suit, massaging and licking and circling. She felt the coil tightening deep inside her, and fumbled to unbutton Luke's shirt. He pulled away long enough to help her remove it, then pulled her even more tightly to him. They both gasped as their bare skin made contact, and Luke's hands and mouth began moving down her body, leaving her writhing and moaning beneath him. After a few more moments, there were no more barriers left between them. He was inside her and they were moving together, their cries lost in the crash of the waves breaking on the shore.

Afterward, they lay wrapped in the blanket, listening to each other's breathing. Suddenly, Lorelai began giggling uncontrollably.

Luke looked at her in concern. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, it's just that I now have sand in all sorts of places I'm pretty sure sand doesn't belong."

"Oh, do you want to go back to the house?" Luke moved to get up, but Lorelai pulled him back down.

"Nuh-uh. Let's just stay here for a little while longer."

They lay in silence for a few more moments.

"Lorelai?"

"Uh-huh?"

"You know we can't spend the night down here, right?"

"Uh-huh."

And with that, they both drifted off to sleep.

_strummy-strummy-la-la_

****

A/N: Yes, _Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs_ is a real book—shout out to you, Big Bri! Additional shout out to Capn Fotblossom for pointing out the Gilmorian resonances in _Madding Crowd_. The Hornby is a shout-out to myself. I'm a huge fan.

****

Next Up: All good things must come to an end.


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